


From Fire to Water

by GlassAlice



Series: Elemental AU [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 3pm ritual, Alternate Universe - Enchanted Forest, Changelings, Elemental AU, Elemental Magic, Fae & Fairies, Fairies, Gods, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Mythology - Freeform, Pagan Rituals, a deer dies, aesthetic, blood sacrafice, fae, keith is the element of fire, lance is the element of water, lance takes a bath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 11:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13635807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassAlice/pseuds/GlassAlice
Summary: Lance purifies his body for the ritual sacrifice. An excuse to write about Lance taking a bath.





	From Fire to Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nikole_Kephir](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Nikole_Kephir).



The sunlight dappled through the canopy of leaves shading the glittering pool below. The silvery water sparkled, golden sunlight glinting across its surface. A small, natural bason lay surrounded by thick trees older than time and nestled into a small grove in the ancient forest. Ruled by the Elemental Fae, Nemeton--the forest between worlds--was home to a myriad of magical creatures. But this section of the forest belonged solely to the god of the water, whose many names included Logos, Loch, Lamos, and most recently, Lance. 

Lance dipped a bronze toe into the shimmering water; the chill of the natural spring soothing him instantly. This was his element, the core of his being. He was water and the water knew him as its own, calling him closer in a ripple of longing that sprang through his chest. He shrugged the gossamer frock from his shoulders and it slipped down his tan arms, pooling over his hands and baring his chest to the gentle wind that caressed his skin. Wisps of breeze ran through his hair, softly ruffling the brown curls around his shell crown. The umber tips reflected gold where the sunlight hit the strands as they danced on the playful fingertips of the west wind. 

Heads of shining gold, fiery red, and raven black hair bobbed busily around the small pool. A collection of children of varied ages prepared for the ritual, their rosy cheeks flushing with exertion. Lance sometimes wondered vaguely about the children’s exact age when they were taken, but it was impossible to determine in such ageless and youthful faces, aside from height. All he knew for sure, was that the newer ones picked their way around the pool in sneakers and jeans. The elder changelings had long since shed their mortal clothes along with their memories, all replaced by woven moss and spider’s silk, feet smudged with dirt. These changelings knew only intricate fairy cloth and the hard life of serving their Elements in Nemeton.

A handsome changeling strained to gather his garment in plump arms, carefully folding it before carrying it away, a few others running to fetch his bathing oils. Chubby fingers removed his crown of shells and river stones, reverently placing it with his other trappings. Fairies danced on the outside of the grove, weaving between the trees, playing games and trying to trip the changelings. Lance giggled softly; fairies might charm the children into the forest, but they soon lost interest-- unless it was to trick them or keep them from their duties to their Elements. He didn’t know any of the changeling’s human names, but he found the fragile mortals intriguing in their unnatural eternal youth.

He let the dusky skinned child with a bugs bunny t-shirt guide him down into the water. The purification ritual was important; and not just for the Fae of Nemeton, but for all of the worlds that were connected by the deep veins of the forest. The Human world and the Beyond. The purification prepared Lance for the cleansing of the feast that his fellow elementals ate, and balanced the fear and weakness of the mortal realm. 

This sacred rite was bound to him during the springtide of his existence. As the astral tears of the primordial cloudburst infused his being with life, so to was this duty placed upon him.

The pebbled floor was smooth under his feet as he stood in the waist high water, eddies caressing his sides. Keith would be hunting for the feast now, just as he’d always hunted, long before the mountains breathed in and exhaled the molten blood of the world to form the earth he now stood on. Lance ran his fingers across the mirrored surface of the water, ripples rolling from his fingertips. Soon the clear pool would be stained red with the blood of sacrifice, marred by Lance himself. As was his duty, as was the duty of them all; their onus to the cycle of life. And what was the difference between water and blood in the end anyways? Lance hummed to himself, perhaps there was none, not really. 

A changeling poured a carafe of blue liquid into the water, white foam bubbling up from the surface in mountains of froth. Small faces gathered at the pool’s edge, giggling and whispering as they played with the bubbles floating up from the surface. The clear water, now a deep blue that perfectly mirrored the cobalt hue of his own eyes, warmed around his skin. Steam rose up in soft tendrils, clinging to the leafy boughs that enclosed his private bath. Fairies fetched armfuls of red poppies and calla lilies, weeping them over Lance’s head like a trickle of bloody tears on fallen snow. Stray petals caught in his dark strands, crowning him in crimson. 

Lance dipped cupped hands into the water, letting the blue liquid seep into open palms. The water streamed from long fingers as he brought it above his head, “ _O ddŵr i ddŵr, dw i’n glanhau ac dw i’n puro._ ”

He let the water pour over his head, streaming down his face and over his torso. The rivulets caught the flowers in his hair and bore them down into the pool below. Bubbles danced around him, reflecting the trees and fairies and the laughing faces of his changelings. 

Lance sunk down into the steaming water, relaxing in the warmth of the spring. Water lapped at his skin, greedily soaking into the Water God, eager to join itself with its Elemental source. The foam bobbed in puffs of effervescent clouds across the azure surface of the water, floating into each other in lazy collisions. Lance scooped up a frothy mountain of fluff with one hand, the collection of miniature bubbles popping and tickling his skin. A warble above his head shook him from his reverie, Lance looked toward the green leaves of an old oak tree. From the corner of his eye he saw every neck turn to look at the newcomer with bated breath. 

A nightingale twiddled and chirped from its perch, calling out the story of the hunt’s recent completion in long plaintive tones to any that would listen. It sung of a great stag, horns of ironwood and fur of mountain snow, fell at the hands of the raging God of Fire. 

The changelings and fairies gathered around the small bird’s tree, enthralled with its newest song. Lance dipped his head under the water, drowning out the flitting notes. The hunt was not his place, and nightingales were very self-important creatures. The water rushed up to meet him, welcoming and tranquil. It swirled around his body, caressing his skin in soothing waves.

A shadow passed above him and he inwardly sighed. _Playtime was over._

Lance stood, breaking through the quiet surface. The warmth seeped from the water, returning to its usual refreshing cool; the bubbles that crowned the basin, now, just the scarcest spots of fluff. Keith stood at the embankment, the white stag slung around his shoulders, pouches at his hip overflowing with nuts and berries. Lance let the water carry him to the shore in a surge, and stepped gracefully out of the pool, water flowing off him in glistening lines. The water turned lifeless at the loss of its god. 

Keith rested the stag on the stone altar near the shore, holding aloft a black knife with a purple stone in the center of the hilt. The changelings placed the frock back around Lance’s slender frame and fairies brought the crown to rest atop his head. Fully clothed, Lance stepped forward, grasping the blade along with Keith, long, dark fingers curling around the Fire God’s pale ones. 

“ _O'r tân i ddŵr, rydym yn glanhau'r dydd_ ,” Lance chanted, lips forming around the ancient words the same as his native tongue. “The white stag of Nemeton, _Sneachta Iarann_ by name, born of mountain and water, return to your home once more.”

Together they brought the the knife to the stag’s throat, slicing deep into the sinew of the animal’s strong neck. The blood trickled down the altar and flowed into the pool below, staining the once sapphire water a deep ruby. The stag shivered its last breath, red rivulets running through long ivory fur. The fairies hummed the _Flowers of the Forest_ to ease the pain of the stag’s transition into the Beyond. 

Together, they washed the stag in the water before adorning the body with poppy petals and calla lilies. Lance knelt, kissing the stag’s forehead, the soft, silvery fur tickling his lips and cheeks as he sent the noble deer’s spirit into the Beyond. A white mist rose from the sacrificial altar, strong antlers briefly taking shape in the haze before it was swept into the woods. 

From fire to fire, all things must survive and all things must perish. From water to water, all things must be born and all things must die. From earth to earth, all things must be created and all things must return. Lance understood that better now than he did before, for what is death to one that doesn’t know time? To one that doesn’t die? He was never meant to understand it, the knowledge of mortality a lesson he had not been fated to experience. And yet... Lance wept over the deer’s corpse, tears wetting the russet-stained fur and running red to the flowered bed below.

Keith placed a hand on his shoulder, firm and familiar. Keith’s task was done, the passing of the hours complete, and Lance had work yet to do. He smiled shakily at the Fire God next to him, fat tears still streaming down across his cheeks.

Keith, the only one of them who could _See_ now as Lance did; Keith, the only other Elemental truly capable of understanding death and decay, for both had felt the icy fingers of time creeping slowly upon them. Lance leaned into the warm hand on his shoulder. Keith cupped his cheek, tired eyes filled with worry, another foreign emotion they shouldn’t know. 

Lance smoothed his thumb over the wrinkle between Keith’s eyebrows, answering the question in his eyes, “I’m alright. Rest now. I’ll return when it’s time to light the lamps.”

Keith’s smile was weary from the hunt, “Soon, my heart.”

Lance ran a finger down the soft flesh of Keith’s cheek, still surprised when no steam rose from the touch. Keith was still warm, but it no longer burned. Lance kissed his forehead right below the obsidian crown borne aloft upon his raven locks, and spoke breathy wisps against his skin, “May the wind be ever at your back.”

Keith smiled, the familiar ritual now a cherished promise, “May the moon guard your slumber.”

Lance cupped the Fire God’s chin in both hands with a gentle smile, “May the road rise to meet you.”

“And the rains fall soft upon your fields.” Keith touched his forehead to Lance’s, closing his eyes.

Lance sighed out the final goodbye, “Until we meet again, May the sun shine warm upon your face.” He leaned in, tasting the sun for himself. Cool water met hot fire, their emotions passing between their lips, telling a story of creation and destruction.

The changelings hid their faces, covering each other’s eyes, rosy cheeks burning behind chubby hands. It was not their place to watch the romance of the Gods.

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you like it, this is a preview for my Klance Reverse Bang fic. It's also a present for Nikole_Kephir! I wanted to give you a bathing Lance to read while you take a bath! <33
> 
> Welsh translation:  
> O ddŵr i ddŵr, rwy'n glanhau ac rwy'n puro.  
> “From water to water, I cleanse and I purify.”
> 
> O'r tân i ddŵr, rydym yn glanhau'r dydd.  
> "From fire to water we cleanse the day"


End file.
